Empire of Ash and Glass
by LadyjValentine
Summary: "Dear Lord, protect my girls when I can't, give them the strength to conquer these evil people, and guide them home back to their family." 19th Century London [Victorian] AU, (Rated M for violence, explicit language, drug use, and adult themes)
1. Prologue

**Summery **

**"Ned Stark was the owner of Stark Steel before he moved down to London to assist the Prime Minister Robert Baratheon. But Robert falls from power and his eldest son Joffery Baratheon is mysteriously elected to replace him, when Ned tries to prevent the cruel Lannister-blooded boy from securing his place, he is dragged into a twisted plot that he can't possibly survive. Now the Stark family is torn apart, Sansa is trapped in the clutches of the Lannisters trying to maneuver her way through high society, while Arya is lost on the streets of London, fighting for the next meal. Both are looking for a way home, and both are faced with immediate danger around every corner."**

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**20th July, 1840**

**Prologue - The Noose**

**Ned **

From the moment Ned Stark arrived in London he noticed the city reeked of death. Everywhere, from his uptown home in Chelsea, to where he was now, in his prison cell in Milbank, the entire place sat under a cloud far thicker than the black ones the cotton chimneys produced.

He was dressed in plain brown breeches, a white stained shirt, waist coat and old boots. They were given to him by the gaoler, probably taken off the last man who was hanged. All Ned had in his cell was some hay, a bench and a bucket. It was a vile place, but when he was told that he could be sharing a cell this size with four men charged with rape and murder, he became oddly grateful for this isolate cell. It gave him space to think, and to mourn.

It was raining outside, even in July, when the heat from the rotting streets sent pungent fumes floating into the air, the rain still fell thick. _It is fitting for the occasion _Ned thought leaning down on his hay with his hands under his head as a pillow. _Maybe it will wash away all the scum from this damn city, this city that had already taken so much from him. _His best friend was dead, and he was stuck in this cell while one of his daughter was in the hands of a monster born of incest and the other was God knows where.

He closed his eyes and dreamed.

He dreamed of home, not his London home that he had lived in for the last few months with his two daughters, but Winterfell. The home up north, with his beautiful Tully wife and all his children, the one his father owned before him. The striking stately home in the heart of the countryside was surrounded by the never-ending Yorkshire moors.

In the North he was close to his factories and mines. As the owner of Stark Steel his family lived in the lap of luxury, yet it was far more humble than the lives of the rich in London. If Ned was honest, he had always hated the capitol city, he would have avoided the place at all cost if he could. If Prime Minister Robert Baratheon hadn't arrived at his home begging Ned to come to London to work on 'using Stark Steel for the National Railways" Ned wouldn't have left Yorkshire, and he certainly wouldn't be in this jail cell.

He could never say no to Robert though. They grew up together, they were almost connected by blood, if only Ned's sister didn't run halfway across the earth to marry a Middle-eastern prince. Robert always wanted them to be his brother, probably because he hated his own; he even went as far as arranging a marriage between Sansa and his eldest Joffery.

He tossed and turned. Grunting, he sat up like he was wakening from a nightmare. The last time he had seen his eldest daughter, her face it was red and puffy as she cried, she shouted something but her words were stifled by tears. It was the last day of his trial a few days earlier on the 15th of July. He had been ushered in to the wooden courtroom to stand and listen to the evidence put against him. _All lies, _he knew they were.

He was being charged for Treason against Queen and Country, when it was really just rouge to make sure Ned couldn't tell the world the truth Robert had told him. A few weeks earlier Joffery had been elected Prime Minister after his father had stepped down. Ned knowing the truth about Joffery's percentage took it on himself to forcefully removing the boy from his place in power. Taking twenty hired thugs into the House of Lords, with the promise that he'll be backed by the majority without any violence involved, Ned tried to get his voice heard. It ended up in him being betrayed by one of his men and a small riot breaking out in the building. Ned was attacked and woke up a few days later in this cell, only to be told he had been arrested for treason.

On the morning of the 15th Cersei came to the stand. Ned stood tall not listening to Cersei lies.

Varys had visited him the night before the trial, he had told Ned everything that was going to happen that day. "She'll be accusing you of treason, murder, and assault" the fat man quipped. He was not dressed in his usual finery that he wore to the meetings Ned was once involved in. Instead he wore rags, like he was pretending to be a gaoler.

Ned as almost spat at him "Is this funny to you?"

Varys shot him a serious look "Nothing is a joke to me, don't mistake me for Petyr, Mr Stark. Just me being here is putting my life in danger. If you believe I would joke about that then I don't think you deserve the information I am about to tell you." He paused, gazing down at Ned with honest pity "I normally get paid for giving away my secrets. Count yourself lucky."

Ned waved his hand "Carry on if you may" he sighed leaning back on the wall. He despised the Spider's company. He never trusted the man or agreed with how he got his information, but Robert had enjoyed his company on the council, or maybe he needed Varys around to feed his own paranoia.

"As I was saying, when Cersei takes the stand she will play her part well, as we both know. Then your daughter will take the stand."

"Sansa?" Ned asked. _Or maybe Arya,_ he hoped, he hadn't heard anything about his youngest daughter for weeks now.

Ned was about to ask about Arya when Varys said "Yes, the pretty one, as Joffery's fiancé she will support Joffery in his claims against you." He shook his head in disbelief _how, why? _Then he remembered, the same reason he had once told Arya '_Joffery is to be her husband, she must serve him as he wishes,' _"The evidence she has against you will stand in court, and as my birds tell, it is all completely true." Varys continued with a sigh.

"I only wanted to send my girls away from London so they were safe. So they weren't hurt by the Lannister's team of thugs and…"

"And you decided to tell them your plan to prevent Joffery from becoming Prime Minister." Varys finished his sentence for him.

Ned looked up at the bald man feeling his blood boil "Joffery shouldn't have voted Prime Minister after Robert, it is madness, corrupt madness and the world knows it. I tried to stop it."

"And much good that did you" Varys murmured sarcastically, he pouted "Joffery is sworn into office, the Lords have voted and he is now in power. What you did, marching to the House of Lords with a small personal army was a crime. That was more than enough evidence the Lannister's need against you."

"The Lannister's are criminals" Ned spat out.

"And in the eyes of the law, so are you. You are worse because you're charged with Treason which is a hanging case. I don't think there is anything you can do to avoid this, Mr Stark" Varys stepped back towards the door and sniffed like he had smelt something rotten.

Ned felt his heart rate slow, the anger he felt a few moments ago as a new feeling replaced it, "Or I could tell everyone the truth about Joffery." Ned suggested. He looked down at his clenched fists remembering Robert, remembering how that woman had lied to him.

Varys shrugged and sighed "Yes you could, but then again. What if no one believes you, what if they silence you again like they did in the House of Lords"

"They can't touch me in that courtroom." He remembered the confrontation in the House of Lords, it was a small scuffled had ended with Ned getting knifed in the calf and knocked out but Jaime Lannister, the wound on his leg hadn't healed properly and he still limped like a feeble old man. "and anyway I thought the whole point of this entire thing is to silence me completely with a rope" Ned pointed out

"Indeed, but if you do call Cersei and Jaime out and tell everyone that her three children is actually their three children, well, the noose will still end up round you neck. The only difference is you will ruin the lives of two children and put your entire family at risk."

Ned sideways glanced at him "What do you mean?"

Varys shrugged but looked completely serious "Being romantically connected to a man born of incest will ruin your eldest daughter, she'll never find a husband in the future, for the rest of your family, they will be punished profusely. Not legally, but then again, when did the Lannister's do anything legally. They still use slaves on their cotton plantations and use pirates to remove their enemies."

Ned rubbed his eyes "What do you want me to do then?" He hadn't slept in days and by the way Varys was grimacing at him he must have looked as bad as he felt.

"It is not what I want, it is what you want. I know you Ned Stark, you want to protect your family and you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you ruined the lives of Myrcella and Tommen, even if they are monsters in the eyes of many." He paused and took a steady breath before placing his flat cap back on his head "You have to plead guilty tomorrow."

Ned scoffed feeling a ting of something sting inside of him, was it anger? Or maybe fear? "If I plead guilty I will hang for sure."

"Mr Stark, no matter what happens in that courtroom you will hang, it will either take place in Milbank Yard or it will be in your home. That is your fate. At least you will die knowing you did the most honorable thing"

Ned had to laugh at how ludicrous it was, but it didn't feel like a laugh, it was too sharp in his throat, almost like a cough. "How is being hanged for treason the honorable thing?"

Varys walked backwards to the door, his eyes not leaving Ned "It is the only way you can be sure your family is safe, I am sure that matters more to you than what some people may say about the great Ned Stark."

Ned kept repeating that in his head as he watched Cersei reel off her lies. She was dressed in glorious red and gold dress, with dramatic embroidery decorating the corset and puffy sleeves that came just off the shoulder. She should have been a woman in mourning, yet she was dressed in such a way that it reminded him of a high class whore.

Robert had died only a few weeks earlier, from a hunting accident. The hunt was supposed to be a celebration of Robert finally stepping down as Prime Minister but the day ended with Ned hearing the news that Robert died from a bullet wound. Ned was pretty sure, from the police report and analysis of the body, it was suicide.

After Cersei, came Sansa to take the stand. She was dressed in a new tighter blood red dress. Her waist was smaller and breast pushed further up, her hair had been pulled off her pale face and neck into a complicated bun at match Cersei's, she looked older than her seventeen years but still had her features that matched her mother.

She didn't speak for long, all she had to say was Ned told her and Arya that he planned to remove Joffery from his place as Prime Minister. After that the Judge excused her. She didn't look at her father till that moment then she chirped "If it pleases you sir" She said to the judge, her eyelashes fluttering in a childish manner "Can I make a request to the jury?"

The Judge adjusted his wig "I'll allow it"

"Gentlemen" She said to the group of elderly men in suits and top hats glaring at her. A certain graying man with muttonchops started at her with hungry eyes which made Ned's skin prickle. "I request that you judge my father fairly, these accusation are only partly true, at the time he was recovering for the death of a dear friend of his, and I think he was worried about Joffery being Prime Minister because my betrothed is young. Though, I am sure, he will do a fine job. What I am saying is… There are other options than death, my father is a good man, hard working as well. Maybe you would, maybe consider deportation to Australia rather than death." Her voice became desperate as her eyebrows slanted, pleading with anyone that would listen.

The judge croaked from above her "I don't believe it is orthodox for a girl to be telling men how they should do their jobs. Don't you agree Miss Stark?" The judge was looking down at her over his glasses.

Sansa went a shade of red that matched her dress. When she was dismissed, with scuttled away from the judges gaze, her eyes not catching Ned's.

"Is there anything else before court is dismissed?" The Judge asked shuffling in his seat.

Ned stood from his seat in the defendant stand "I plead guilty for the all crimes I am being accused of" He swallowed looking at nothing. Ned spoke with a steady voice but his hands shook. He clasped them together, hoping no one would notice

There was a grumbling about him, which seemed to increase until it was hushed by the judge. "If that is the case" he said when the room was silent. "Ned Stark, for the Crimes of Treason against the Crown, the Murder of Robert Baratheon, and for instigating public unrest, my only option is to sentence you to death by hanging." The judge said with regret before banged the gavel.

That was when he heard Sansa cry out a sudden "No" he turned to see her in the crowd of spectators. Joffery was with his mother on the other side of the room, his face smirking. Cersei didn't look pleased at all. Sansa had started to noticeably cry, she was whimpering alone, with no one to comfort her, only one of Joffery's thugs to hold her back as she tried to launch herself forward in the most unladylike manner. "You promised me, you said he would be deported" she whimpered pulling away from the huge man. Ned wanted to go to her, but at that point he was being dragged away. He managed to see his daughter mouth something that could have been "I'm sorry". In his dreams he remembered her screaming it. Ned wasn't sure what was true. At the time he couldn't hear a thing. His mind was rushing and it felt like a sea of blood was gushing round out of his ears.

_"I'm sorry" _he said to himself. He wanted to see his daughter then. Tell her it isn't her fault and she shouldn't be sorry, tell her to be strong and that he was doing this for her. He was lying down, staring at the stone roof of his cell. The rain had stop and a red July dawn was appearing from beneath the clouds. _It is going to be a nice day _he idly thought; _to die at dawn_ was his next thought, but that one was more of a memory.

He didn't know how long he sat there before the gaoler came to retrieve him.

Ned stood proudly and pulled his shoulders back ignoring the pain in his leg. If he was to die today, he would die knowing he didn't cower. In that last moment in his cell he thought about Robert, His childhood friend. The last time they had spoken was in Robert's London office, the day before the hunt accident. The office had been cleared and was a shell with nothing but a desk.

Robert had been drinking heavily since midday and then it was almost eleven in the evening. He wore a creased shirt and a beaten-looking top hat, as well as, his travelling cape lazily pulled over his shoulders. Ned had asked him if he wanted him to call a carriage to take him home. Robert had laughed aggressively "What home?" he slurred swirling his empty glass. "Have you never noticed that my wife hates me?"

Ned said nothing, and Robert didn't wait for a response when he started laughing again. "I am surprised Ned you didn't, you were always the smart one out of the pair of us. Well admittedly, you weren't stupid enough to marry the cunt." Ned cringed at the word which just sent Robert into more laughter, but what was always a charismatic laugh that drew people in, was now harsh like rusted iron scraping against steel "I was supposed to marry your sister."

Ned had heard it a million times before, mostly when Robert was drunk "And she married someone else." He huffed knowing he needed to changed the subject "Listen, tomorrow you'll no longer be Prime Minister, you should celebrate your years of success."

Robert gave him a miserable glare "And which successes are these? The first riot which ended in the deaths of twenty people or when the lords raised up against me and forced me to step down so my son could replace me like the pathetic fat old man I am." He sniggered then and poured himself some more wine "Ha, son, what a joke"

"What do you mean?" Ned asked, considering removing the alcohol from him, he could still match Robert in a scuffle if need be, and with Robert being this drunk it would be an easy fight to win.

Robert set down his glass and leaned on the desk "Joffery is not my son, and I'm sure the rest aren't mine either. They are all Jaime's" He said calmly and paused for a long time to let it sink in for Ned, "Do you want to know what's worse Ned… I don't even care" He went to pick up his glass again "I just don't care anymore, I have been the worst Prime Minister in British History, I almost destroyed the Empire, my wife wants me dead, and our children aren't even mine. I have children out there, somewhere, in the arms of whores and maids and worker's wives. But they aren't my kids either. I am going to leave this world and have contributed nothing… Then again, if that is the case, people can't blame me for Joffery" He raised his glass in the air with a false grin on his face "Cheers to the new Prime Minister. I hope he learns how to be a true gentlemen before he fucks up the entire world"

That time the next day Ned got the news that Robert had died. Shot through the throat. His youngest brother Renly was with him, but he says it was a drunken accident. Ned hoped so. He couldn't imagine Robert damning his soul by taking his own life.

It wasn't until he stepped outside into the summer dawn when Ned released he had done the same.

A small silent crowd was watching as he limped towards the wooden platform that had been erected in the middle of the yard. His eyes gazed over a few faces and saw none he recognized until he saw Yoren, a local leader of a gang of thieves. He had been friends with Ned for a few months, they were both born in the same town, which was enough to bond over. Ned nodded to his friend that was dressed in a shabby black tailcoat.

When he was on the platform he stood with three other men above trapdoors, under a beam. Two men were crying, the other was completely still but had noticeably pissed himself. From there Ned could see passed the crowd to the walls around the jail's yard. He saw all the Lannister, including Tywin, who didn't manage to make it to the trial. He looked disappointed, almost unhappy. Also Sansa and Joffery were there. Joffery held her arm with what looked like a vice like grip. Sansa was struggling to look up, as if the sun was in her eyes, but when she did she stared like she was seeing nothing.

A priest stood by the stand booming the prisoner's final rights from a bible. Ned's eyes still scanned the grounds till he saw a small figure standing by the farthest wall. A small child in breeches, shirt, and familiar-looking black excessively buttoned blazer, far fancier than anything a normal street child would wear. When he recognized it had belonged to his youngest son Bran the figure completely came together. Her hair was dirty around her face and her eyes huge. In one hand she held onto her dagger her half-brother had once given her. _If the Lannister's see her she'll be as trapped as Sansa, _Ned looked to Yoren and gestured to the figure at the back.

Yoren turned towards the figure and then back to Ned showing he had recognized her, he made his way towards her. Ned sighed with relief almost feeling like the world had been lifted from his shoulders.

A black sack was placed over his head and his breath quickened knowing what was about to happen. The rope came next. He chose not to think about the pain, or how long it would take, but the thoughts came back to him. He couldn't imagine any pain worse than the pain of waiting in silence and darkness.

His breath felt tight in his throat and he thought he might just choke to death then and there. _This is it _he told himself, taking advantage of the darkness of the bag, and the endless amount of time they were taken before they dropped him, he started to pray.

_'Dear Lord, protect my girls when I can't, give them the strength to conquer these evil people, and guide them home back to their family.'_

"Amen" He barely managed to whisper the word when the ground feel beneath him and his body plunged into the abyss.

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**My Notes:- Wow, lot to take in for a first part. Any questions, just ask, don't be afraid. Thank you for reading, I am damn proud of this chapter and I am not normal pleased with my first chapters. Inspiration from this came from many places including Oscar Wilde, The Resurrectionist, Withering Heights, History lessons, Sherlock Holmes (though if you are looking for the Sherlock Holmes like story you have come to the wrong story I do apologies.) and of course ASOIAF. **

**There may be some ships, also it does mainly focus of Arya and Sansa for the first few chapters but I may branch out to Bran and possibly Theon depending on where the story takes me. **

**I own nothing at all, it all belongs to GRRM**

**Further note, greatest apologies if the next chapter isn't posted for a couple of weeks. **


	2. Chapter 1 - Arya I

**Arya – The Dagger**

She worked outside the gates of Milbank prison for three weeks before she decided to go in and actually watch a hanging. She'd never seen one before, her father never took her to one and her mother would have died at the thought she was attending, but honestly her mother would have died if she could see her now.

When the men in red bombarded her home a few short weeks ago, Arya was in the middle of a fencing lesson and only managed to escape with the clothes on her back. These were Bran's trousers, some soft leather boots, and an old shirt she'd taken from a kitchen boy. Now, after weeks of living rough, her pants were torn, and her shirt stained with the blood of a boy who tried to hand her in. Arya learned to ignore the stains eventually when more important things crossed her mind. Like where she was going to sleep or what she was going to eat. She had no family in London and not enough money to get a carriage back to Yorkshire.

After the men in red attacked her home her first plan was to stay in Chelsea. She thought when everything calmed down she could go find a neighbour that would help her.

One couple unparticular, when she asked them about what had happened at the Stark house, the women's face scrunched up like she was sucking on a lime. She was old, and she wore a stupidly extravagant bonnet, covered in purple roses and pearls. She fanned herself dainty and touched the man's arm with her gloved hand.

"Oh lord, one of those streets children" she hissed above Arya's head like she wasn't there. "I think we should get the authorities"

Her husband huffed, his white mustache twitching "Dear, she is causing no trouble, the probability is that she is lost." He knelt down low and tilted his top hat back from his brow. The sun was painfully beating down that day and Arya could see beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

The woman fanned herself more aggressively now. "She is probably stealing from the houses, I mean look at her." She said without actually looking at Arya.

The man sighed, then grabbed a hold of Arya's collar "Come on then, we will find a man that can take you back home."

Arya suddenly became very scared. When men in red barged into Arya's home they were accompanied by police officers. When they came into the studio were Arya was practicing in, officers ran at Seriol and her with batons in hand. If it wasn't for Seriol holding them back, Arya wouldn't have had time to snake her way out of the window and away from the madness. The police were against her and her family, they wanted to hurt her, and therefore they couldn't be trusted.

She jumped back quickly, trying to tug her shirt from the man's grasp. His wife started shrieking and waving for police. Two thugs in red shirts noticed the scuffle taking place and started to make their way toward them. Arya went for the dagger tucked under in her belt feeling her heart race. Remembering something Seriol once said about fighting unarmed men, she sheathing it quickly. Instead, Arya kick the man just below her kneecap. His grip loosened just enough for her to pull free and run into the garden of a nearby house.

That night she returned to her home one last time. The darkness was overwhelming but Arya could see the destruction that lay in front of her. Her sister and all her belong were gone. Her father's room had been pillaged and trashed. They even needlessly tore a small framed painting of her mother. When she went to her own room the men in red had taken her jewelry box, and a couple of her fancier unworn dresses but apart from that it was fairly unscathed.

She lay down in her bed in her soot covered clothes and felt herself cry. D_on't cry, you're not a little girl, _she told herself aggressively whipping her eyes. _You're fourteen, for the lords sake stop cry. _But still the tears kept falling, she hadn't seen her father in days, he sister had been taken by the gang in red.

They were Lannisters. She knew that much. The men in red scared Sansa when she saw them, but Sansa was scared of most things. Arya wasn't afraid of them, she hated them too much to be scared of them. Months before they attacked her home, they'd killed her friend Mycah in cold blood after she got in a fight with Joffery Baratheon. Even thinking about that blond bastard made her skin crawl, he commanded Mycah's death and nobody did anything about it, not her father, or Sansa. Arya thought these people could do nothing else to make her hate them, then they killed Jory, one of her father's bodyguards and close family friend.

That night Arya slept in her bed for one last time. She didn't dream at all that night but she woke up thinking of her sister. _I hope she was wrong _Arya thought shuffling under the sheet feeling cold _I hope she was wrong to fear the Lannister men, they won't hurt her. _She wanted to believe it.

When the first light of dawn started peering through the dust filled curtains Arya decided it was time to leave. Just in case the Lannister men came back to loot the place for all it was worth. She went to her chest of draws and took out a blazer that did belong to Bran. It was a fine black jacket with gold plated buttons and red quilting on the inside but Bran out grew it quickly, like most boys at the age of 13 do, so he gave to Arya.

She wondered if Bran knew about their father being locked up, she wondered if any of them knew where Sansa was, _maybe they might come to save us, Robb and Jon will take us home, then we'll all get Father out of prison, _but she knew the dreams of her brothers swooping in like knights to save her were stupid ones. They were the kind of dreams Sansa had, Arya needed to be more realistic if she wanted to survive. It was then she knew she must to go into London, if not to find Sansa, at least she could blend in and out of sight of the Lannisters.

She grabbed a small bag to fill with food, a light blanket, some spare gloves, a canteen, and a few coins that she scrambled together. In the empty servants quarters she got a spare shirt, trousers and a cap to cover her Stark brown head.

"Who're you?" a broken voice came from behind her.

She spun quickly reaching for her dagger. It was the fat boy that used to light the fires in her room. "Miss Stark" his eyes widened for a moment then a sly grin appeared on his thin lips. "They're lookin' for you" his eyes beaming wide like he had seen gold "They'll give me so much if I take you to 'em"

The boy took a few steps forward extending his hand towards her. Arya fixed her grip on her dragger and with one swift movement she swiped the knife up. It was only suppose to catch the boys wrist, which it did, but the tip of the blade sliced through a part of the boys neck. Blood gushed from the wound.

Arya struggled to watch the boy turn pale and fall to his knees. His eyes met hers and pleaded for something, but Arya didn't know what. Blood still rushing from the wound. She couldn't believe people bled so much. When he finally collapsed completely to the ground, the pool around him spread like smoke to every corner of the room. Arya hands were clammy with sweat and blood and she could feel bile rising in her throat. She couldn't stay any longer. She pulled the cap low on her head and treaded bloody footprints away from the fresh corpse.

After going to the studio to pick up her sword, she fled her Chelsea home and started her walk into the centre of London. The first night on the streets was the worst experience of her life. It was just outside the main streets of London, in some workman's garden. She couldn't possibly stay awake but nothing about the place made her want to go to sleep. Wood stuck in her back, a hedgehog shuffled and excreted in her hair, and the skinny worker that owned the house kept going outside to get coal or piss. She must have slept because she woke early with a thin layer of dew forming on her cheek. Before the world was awake Arya gathered up her things she made the final way into the streets of London.

Her father never took her into London personally; he said it was a horrible place full of criminals and disease. The only times she'd been allowed to the capital was when she was having lessons with Mordane or if she went with Sansa to meet the Baratheon children. Sansa would always be pulled away from her by Joffery leave her with the other two. Myrcella was her age, but far too much like her mother to want anything to do with Arya. Tommen was the same age as Bran but even though Bran was crippled he could still probably best little Tommen in a fight.

On the first few visits Arya tried to make an effort, she would sit with Myrcella and do sewing and gossip about people she didn't know or care about. Myrcella was nice enough but Arya incompetence was probably grating on her nerves, although she never showed it. Arya even tried to spend time with Tommen and his cats but was later advised by were teacher not to. It was deemed uncouth as it could have lead to promiscuous behavior between the two of them. Arya hooted at first but when Sansa said "You never know Ms Mordane, she could marry Tommen, then we would have at least one thing in common" Arya shuddered at the thought. _Marry Tommen, I can barely spend 10 minutes with the boring Baratheon boy. _

She was with Tommen when she first met Mycah. She'd had been playing with him in the small but flowery garden. Mycah was strolling past and began goaded Arya into following him. She didn't go after him until the second time they met. He'd challenged her to a duel in the street, using two parts of a broken broom as swords. "We'll fight wit' swords like proper gen'lemen" He chuckled throwing the stick for her to catch.

Arya smirked holding the thick stick in her hand "Proper Gentlemen settle their differences with pistols rather than swords."

Arya laughed before launching herself at him. When they were tired of playing he showed her around the city. He paraded around the streets revealing some shops, bars, whore houses and even an underground opium den. Down small hidden streets and into secret places covered in grime, only a person who'd lived there their whole life would know such places of mystery and wonder.

London had been completely alien to her. She was used to great roaming country sides to ride her house. In the city there was no room to move, no trees or fields and the only horses were the ones drawing carriages. Also unlike in the north, there were children everywhere, ones Arya's age and younger, ones that even looked like her little brothers.

The first thing she did when she arrived on her own in London was go to the shelter Mycah was been staying in when they first met. The shelter was on the east-side of the river themes near Pimlico and Milbank Prison. The entire place was overrun with young boys and a few scraggy girls like her that were easily mistaken for boy.

When she was Arya Stark, Daughter of Steel tycoon Ned Stark, friend of Mycah she would have mocked and aggravated the boys of the shelter into sword fights. Now though, she hid, keeping herself to herself, she didn't share her food and ask for help. She got money by killing pigeons to sell on the street. She got a few coins for it when she worked around the shelter, but she found the best business was outside the Milbank prison.

She knew her father was in there within the wall and she spent every day outside trying to get any news about the trail. She heard a few things, like he was charged with treason, that he'd killed Robert Baratheon, and that he attacked the young blond Prime Minister and killed twelve men as they tried to wrestle him to the floor. Arya didn't know what to believe, most were rumors. She'd even over heard someone say Ned Stark pleaded guilty to it all.

The day she decided to watch a hanging she knew it was a big one. A huge crowd gathered outside the gates even before they opened. She snuck into the middle of the gathering leaving her freshly killed pigeons with a skinny little girl. The birds were not worth selling, the kill was messy and the cut had gone through the breast making them less than unsellable.

In the yard Arya hung back by the wall keeping her head. She didn't know how to act in this situation, whether to be happy or sad. The general mood was an excited drone. It was packed with workers and mothers with their children. She couldn't understand why people would want to watch people die. She'd watched the servant boy die and nothing made her want to relive that.

Arya was inspecting the platform from her place by the wall when she saw a glint of red from the corner of her eye. Her breath caught in her throat, she could make out the figure of The Hound clad in his blood red shirt. She steadied herself on the wall and glanced quickly in his direction.

They were all there, The Hound, Robert Baratheon's wife Cersei, and her twin brother, Joffery was there surrounded by a few more men dressed in red and black, then Sansa. She was being pulled by Joffery and one of his men on to their podium, from which they were going to watch the action from. She examined them all. Cersei wore a sour look that matched the old man standing close by her, her brother Jaime stood beaming close by with a stupidly smug smile on his lips. Sansa was crying as one of the men in red held her still.

Arya wanted to run to her sister then, to save her because she was too much of a Lady to save herself. But something stopped her, it was a horrific feeling. All the drones around her started to come together and she could hear every words and all it was saying was "Ned Stark" _No, it can't be _her minded pleaded _that can't be why you're all here. _

She looked at the Lannister's looming in their red, Sansa still pleaded. Joffery grabbed her by the jaw with one hand and turned her face to the noose, he whispered something in her ear. Then Sansa stood very still, her eyes were red and watering but they stared where Joffery forced her to look.

It was then when the prisoners started to be brought out. The first was a raper, or so the man in front of Arya said. The second, a much larger man struggled some much, that he needed three coppers to guide him up the platform. When he was up there he just gave up and his eyes went blank like there was nothing behind them. The third man cried the whole way there and his wife called to him. When all three stood on the platform Arya's heart raced. _He isn't there, it isn't true, _she stared at the forth noose preying

When he walked into the yard, the whole world stopped. The crowd silenced, so did the birds and the entire city outside the walls of the prison. Everything stopped. Everything but her father. He kept walking with his head high and studied the crowd. When his foot hit the first step, it echoed with a hollow boom.

Arya had unsheathed her dagger. She didn't know when she did but it was firm in her left hand._ He won't die, I won't let him_ she planned routes in her head. She was faster than any of these guards, she could run and slit their throats, her father could run away. They would kill Joffery and his mother, rescuing Sansa as they went by. Then they would all go home and be a family again, she would never argue with her sister or avoid her lessons, she would grow up to be a lady for her mother and marry the man her father approved of. Anything just so they could be a family again.

She struggled to hold on to the dagger with the sweat forming in the palm. She took on a stance that Seriol had taught her, ready to take flight. Her eyes caught her fathers. Grey eyes like, her own, staring back at her from his place underneath his noose. He was completely calm, she saw no fear, no anger, only regret. Then they left her and she felt rage build up in her,_ I must be focused not angry, _Seriol once said to her animals never felt angry, they used all that energy to survive.

A bag was pulled over his head and Arya knew it was time to act. She leapt forward as swift as a deer into the crowd. She pushed at people trying to not to hit them with her dagger. But as she delved deeper into the crowd it all started to close in on her. She screamed and called but the voices around her raised till she was drowned out. "Move!" she shouted ramming her fist into the side of a man's leg.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and she thought it was the man she'd just hit. Raising her dagger high she swiped at him. He pulled her close to him so she couldn't get the distance. His other hand seized her wrist. "Stop" he ordered above the noise of the crowd, he had a northern accent that reminded her of her father. "There is nothing you can do"

Arya tried to move away from him but he was too close and his grip was too tight. "Let me go!" She bawled, craning herself and she could see the tops of the ropes from her place in the crowd. "I'll kill you if you don't"

"No you won't lad" the man said, a little bit nettled, he held on to the handle of the dagger. "Look at me" she looked up feeling tears in her eyes, the sun beamed behind the man's face so all she saw was black.

"Please I need to save him" her eye met the man's. She recognized him, he was a friend of her dad's, _you have to help me, you know him he is innocent, you know please _her mind rushed_. _She managed to push out the words "We could save him" She tugged away from him again.

"Stop struggling, I am Yoren, a friend. He told me to help you." She still tried to cut him with the dagger but he was too close "Listen! If you run out there you will get caught and you'll be in more trouble, keep looking at me boy" he caught her jaw in his hand and made her look at him.

"I'm not a boy" she squealed back. The voices around her rose to an almost deafening pitch. Then it was silenced by a wooden noise from behind her. She released her head from his grip. Swinging around she saw the tops of the ropes were taut. Something severed inside of her and she felt like was she cast adrift, like she was floating in midair with a noose around her neck, strangling her.

The man snapped her round to look at him but she could no longer see him through the wateriness in her eyes "Don't look boy" the man pulled her tighter so that her head was next to his chest. "He wouldn't have wanted you to look"

* * *

**My Notes:- I am enternally greatful to anyone who takes time to read my published work, I love you, completely with all my heart. Anyway, I apoligise as always for any mistakes made and also about my writing style... It is quite confusing at the moment because I do jump around a lot (mainly because I am not very good at writing) but I promise you when the story leaves out after this chapter we get straight into the story which I hope you enjoy.**

**I own completely nothing in this lifetime and universe.**


	3. Chapter 2 - Sansa I

**Sansa - The Ring**

_It's all my fault_ Sansa thought, watching her father's body swing.

The crowd was dispersing in front of her, a cheerful glow surrounded them showing they were pleased with the days event. Sansa didn't care about these folk. She continued to stared, whether it was her not wanting to anger Joffery or whether she couldn't actually just look away she wasn't sure.

Nobody paid attention to her anymore. She wasn't crying or pleading, therefore she wasn't interesting in Joffery's eyes. None of the Lannister's cared about her either, she could have runaway then, though she probably wouldn't get very far. If Joffery wasn't watching her, someone must have been because she could feel eyes on the back of her head.

"Nothing will change by you staring" a voice came from nearby, his rasps no longer startled her but she did struggle to feel at ease under his gaze. She didn't tear her eyes away to look at Sandor looming over her.

"My love wanted me to look" she answered calmly. A withered man came up the platform her father was once standing and started to cut down his body. He fell heavily to the floor like a bag of sand, the thug he made echoed around her. "I will look till he tells me not to"

It was a horrifically warm day and Sansa was glad she wasn't wearing one of the dresses Cersei had bought her. They were more womanly and fitted in with the London style of flamboyant patterns, lace and frills. She had worn one like that to the last day of her father's trial, later she tore up that dress and hid it in trunk at the end of her bed.

For the execution Sansa wore a dress she had brought down for the north. It was blue woolen dress one that was modestly fit; it didn't follow the trends of low waistlines and excessive petticoats that made dresses heavy and constricting. But in this heat even if she stood in her under garments she would still feel dizzy.

The man who cut her father down went off the platform and lifted Ned onto a cart along with the criminals who had hung next to him. Sansa noticed how the bodies looked far more dead when they were motionlessly sprawled over each rather than when they were hanging. "What will they do with his body?" She asked blankly to no one. She suddenly hoped she didn't say it too loudly incase Joffery heard.

"They'll take him to the university, probably give him to a student to slice up to fiddle around with his guts" Sandor said harshly. Sansa almost told him to stop being so unpleasant but she knew he was only being honest.

"He should be taken home" she hissed. A breeze hit her skin making her feel cold all of a sudden. Hugging herself, she stared at the space her father once hung.

"What did you just say?" Joffery called to her from his mother's side. His smarmy face looking pleased with himself. While Cersei still wore the usual expression of displeasure she had been wearing the past few days since the trial.

Sansa finally forced her eyes away from the hanging beam, she adopted a dozy expression "Nothing my love"

He scowled at her knowing she was lying "Good, well, we are leaving now" he said grabbing a hold of her arm, digging his nails into the bruise that lay there.

Sansa had spent the last week paying for the father's crimes. The first time was after the trial that she wanted no part of. That night, she had paid for the scene she made in the courtroom. It was the first time he struck her and the only time. When he released her was surrounded by men, far bigger and with far less morals, he gave the job to them, but they could only hit her where no one would see. Her ribs and thighs were coloured like a painting of violets, but most had faded into murky yellow splodges.

The first few times he blamed her for what he was doing to her, saying that she was late to their meals or that she was being rude. But soon he didn't need an excuse; he just enjoyed watching her in pain. He smiled like he had never smiled before, it was a smile a husband should give to his wife, but this wasn't the way it was supposed to be done.

She looked at her fiancé then. He looked the same as he did before he became Prime Minister. Still handsome with golden hair and emerald eyes, now he wore grand suits and top hats. Yet it didn't feel the same to be around him. He sickened her now, his yellow hair reminded her of the colour of her bruises and his green eyes made her think of decay. But if he reminded her of anything, it was his mother.

She hated her as well, though not as much as Joffery. The woman looked every part like a lady, she had the latest clothes London had to offer, her hair was prim, and she spoke softly with a casual indifference like she always had a secret. It was everything Mordane had taught Sansa, everything she had wanted to be. Yet no part of Sansa wanted to be like Cersei. She promised her that her father would be safe, she said if she didn't tell the truth then she couldn't marry Joffery and shame would fall on her whole family. Now her father was dead, shame had fallen on her family and she was still marry Joffery, it was the worst outcome she could have possibly had.

Joffery held her arm slightly lighter as he guided her from the yard. A small group of poor folk had gathered outside the prison walls to see the Prime Minister. One girl that caught her eye was very small, no older than seven. Her childlike face was sunken from lack of food but her eyes beamed as she held up a pigeon corpse toward Joffery. "For the Minister" she chimed looking as proud as punch "For you and your wife"

Joffery's grimaced making his normally handsome face look vile. He glanced behind him at Trant and gestured to the small girl. Trant moved forward swiftly and pushed the small girl back into the crowd and out of Sansa sight. When she tried to look for her in the crowd Joffery tugged roughly on her arm. Another child pulled on Sansa dress, she turned around and smiled courteously at the boys.

They weren't really boys though, they must have been her age or only a year younger. One was very fat while the other was skinny, they couldn't look more different if they tried. "You are very beautiful milady" the skinny one said bowing to her.

Joffery was pulling on her arm, grunting but she still stayed put where she was. _I'll pay for my intolerance later, but now I am a lady and a lady is respectful to everyone, the richer and the poorer. _"You are too kind" she offered her hand to the skinny one. She was considering giving the poor boy money when suddenly the fat boy snatched her hand and started yanking at the gold ring on her finger.

Sansa squealed and pulled her hand back but her ring finger was now naked and the boys were scarpering off. Before anyone could stopped them they were gone into the crowd. Sansa gawped down at her hand not quite sure what just happened. Joffery violent pulled her towards to carriage, swearing under his breath.

In the carriage Sansa sat between Joffery and his mother, opposite her sat Blout and The Hound. It was a tight fit but Sansa was oddly glad for Cersei company, it held off her impending beating for at least a few hours. Sansa rested back on the plush black lining of her seat and took a deep breath, she had never been so grateful to leave a place in her life.

"Home please, Christopher" Joffery called to the driver. He removed this top hat and glowered Sansa. "You stupid girl, what encouraged you to act so mindlessly around these street urchins."

"I wasn't thinking I…" She trailed off seeing Joffery's lip curl into to a disgusted pouted.

"The girl will learn" Cersei tutted "she's from the North, they probably don't have scum like we do down here" she pouted as well and for a brief second Sansa swore Joffery looked identical to his Mother.

Sansa didn't answer. In truth they did have criminals up in the north, but they were mostly sheep rustlers and a few riots between disgruntled farmers. She had never had anything stolen from her before, she looked at the space where the gold ring once was. She struggled not to smile then. She hated that ring. Joffery had given her the ring a few days ago as an engagement present. It was gold plated with his personal crest of a Lion and Stag engraved in it. _I hope it feeds your family for a month_ she wish she could say to the thieves _or melt it down and make something beautiful out of it, _she thought of the crest and wondered what she would give to see it melt away in a blaze of golden glory in front of her eyes.

Joffery kept conversation with his mother as Sansa sat in silence for the rest of the journey. She mostly looked at her hands but occasionally she looked at the burly men opposite her. They took up a huge space in the carriage and Sansa's knees kept knocking against Sandor's. She said sorry the first few times but after the fourth he sighed heavily and glared at her, the hideous burnt side of his mouth twitching. She stopped apologizing then and just focused on her hands.

"I don't think your men should wear red" Cersei stated, "They aren't Lannister men anymore, they are yours."

Joffery shrugged immaturely "I think red it threatening though Mother, everyone in London knows to run when they see red"

"I don't think it is suitable to be using the family guard, I just –"

"– you just what?" Joffery snapped turning to look at his mother. Sansa leaned back trying to dissolve into the seat behind her. Joffery and his mother watched each other cautiously. Sansa heard the shuffle of fabric as Cersei balled up chunks of her skirt in her fist. Joffery smirked "Mother, I don't want to offend you, but you are a woman, and I am the prime minister." The carriage clattered around them but everything felt still for a very long moment.

Cersei's face faded into a warm smile but her green eyes burned into her son's. "You can learn a lot from a woman's opinion. For example, the red is threatening indeed but you don't want to be threatening to your allies. When you walk into parliament you want people to feel confident and safe around you."

Joffery laughed coldly at his mother, "Do you wish for me to look weak? There are traitors around every corner. Ned Stark for one, we thought he was father's friend but he did nothing but betray him and I"

"Being accessible to your associates doesn't make you weak. Even a Prime Minister can learn something from women about sensitivity, Sansa don't you agree."

Cersei touched her arm making Sansa's entire body leap. She glanced around like a hare not knowing what to say. She couldn't disagree with Cersei, the Lannister was far more dangerous than anyone Sansa had ever met, but then again, if she disagreed with Joffery it would be another beating on top the ones she is already expecting.

"If I may interject?" Sandor inquired in a surprisingly calm and civil manner for such a brutish man. "It would be good idea to change our uniforms from red and black." Joffery stared at him fascinated, he waved for the far large man to continue "You are prime minister in your own right as a Baratheon. You don't want to be constantly hiding behind your mother's men. What I am saying is, it will make you look like you have your own army of men. If anything it will show that you have more power."

Joffery nodded a few times scratching his chin, "I think you are right Sandor, what colour do you suggest?"

Sandor shrugged. Sansa looked at him in awe, the burned side of his face was closest to her. Normally she would recoil in horror but at that moment she was too astonished to look away, she wondered if he knew how he had just helped her. "How about black then?" Blout suggested.

"Or white." Cersei asked but it wasn't really a question, more like a command. Sansa looked at the two men opposite her and imagined them in white, a pure colour of peace and tranquility. _They'll be red in no time with the amount of blood the pair of them spill. _They were both monsters. Sandor had killed Arya's friend all them months ago, apparently almost cutting him in two, no doubt he had killed many before him. Blout had beaten her on a few occasions without even questioning it. She hated them both for that, they did every command the twisted Joffery told them to.

A queasy feeling rose up in her when Joffery took her paling hand in his, and it stayed with her right through to dinner later that evening. She didn't want to eat anything but she had been forced to go by Cersei. It was a large meal, almost like a celebration, which sickened her even more. Joffery's Lannister uncles were there, as was his grandfather, his mother and a few close council members she remembered briefly from when her Father worked with Robert Baratheon.

Sansa sat next to her betrothed and made light conversation when people talked to her like a lady should, but most of the time she was silently eating; only taking small bites to be sure the sickness within her didn't rise up.

"Lady Sansa" Tyrion Lannister said from across the table to her. He was a dwarf which was an uncommon site in high society but Sansa was used to him now. Joffery hated his uncle but Sansa now found that he was the only one she could stand to look in the eye. Even his were mismatched and hidden under his prominent brow.

"Yes Sir?" she chirped setting down her folk.

"May I say you look lovely this evening… I recall at the trial you wore red" Sansa nodded girlishly, his eyes glanced brief at her dress "You suit blue and grey better I must say, if you wear too much red you might start looking and acting like my sister and no one wants that" he laughed to himself and Sansa politely forced a smile on her face. She ignored Cersei fleeting glare. "I also want to say sorry for your loss"

Sansa froze feeling eyes on her, _they'll be marking me on how I react _she considered, with a calming breath she answered "If you are referring to the loss of my father then you needn't say sorry. He was a traitor and he met a traitors end" Her eyes never left his but every inch of her wanted to look away or be sick, she wanted to tear at her skin and take back them lies she just said. Yet she continued to stare blankly because she didn't know what else to do with herself.

"He should have his head put on a pike" Joffery cut in taking a heavy gulp of his wine.

Tyrion eye's left hers, "Nephew, please show some courtesy, you also lost your father recently I am sure you can sympathize… As a human being you can sympathize"

Sansa went back to playing with her food, she heard Joffery chuckle in his breath with disgust "The man betrayed me, he said horrible things about my mother, he betrayed our family, does that mean nothing to you?"

"If she is to be your wife, soon to be part of this family if she still wishes to be, you should respect her enough to know that he is clearly distressed about her father death. I mean, whose idea was it to bring her to the execution?" Tyrion snapped looking around the table before focusing on his sister.

"It was mine" Joffery freely admitted like it was nothing, Sansa's breathe hitched in the throat, hoping to God her choke wasn't loud enough for anyone to hear. "She should know what happens to a traitor" he looked down the line at the hushed guest "Pycelle said that traitors breed traitors and the only way they can be stopped is fear"

Pycelle sounded like he was about to speak but he was silenced by Tyrion's groan "You first had him killed then you force his daughter you watch." He laughed coldly and turned back to his sister "Was he born evil or did you just raise him that way?"

Cersei pouted and look to her father and her twin, they both said nothing. She sighed heavily "What happened to Ned Stark was a mistake, we all know that, including my son –"

"– I did the right thing, he was a traitor, I am Prime Minister, this is my empire and he tried to take it away from me" Joffery whined like a child.

"Yes unfortunate for the rest of us, that is true, but we all agreed Stark was supposed to be transported to Australia, we still need his company and we still need Stark loyalty and now we have lost that because you were being a stupid little boy."

_I'm going to be sick _Sansa tried to say but her gagging stopped her. She left the table without asking and ran from the room on the top floor, her hand clutched over her mouth. Her throat felt raw and her face was already wet with tears though she didn't remember when she started to cry.

She went into the guest room she had been staying in since she was ripped from her family home. As soon as she entered the dimly lit room her sickness seemed to pass, but her tears didn't. She grabbed the brush from the plain dark wooden desk and started losing the curls in her hair. Her maid was one of Cersei's little creatures and she always made as much effort to make Sansa look like the Lioness.

Tearing at her hair the tears ran quicker. She made a feeble job of whipping them away but they kept coming. _That monster killed my father, and I helped him _the bruises on her skin prickled. A hesitated knock sounded from her door. "Go away!" she commanded recognizing the soft beat as her maid's knock.

She heard the thug of retreating footsteps and Sansa was alone again. She threw down her brush and went to her plainly dressed bed. Wrapping herself up in soft duvet she felt the emptiness of the room. It was nothing like her room in Chelsea or her one in Winterfell. This one must have at some point belonged to a nanny, the walls were completely plain apart from a copy of the ten commandments hammered into the wall. The only thing that was here was her books on the shelf, and clothes and jewelry she was allowed to keep.

Her room in Winterfell was her childhood, filled with toys, paintings, and trinkets. She had a glorious four poster bed, and a wide window that looked over the entire estate. In Chelsea her room was smaller and the view wasn't as magnificent but far more grown up, which she liked. The highlight of the room was a gorgeous small crystal chandelier that hung in the centre, in the mornings it would sparkle in the pink dawn making Sansa feel like she was bathing in light. She could have never had an item so beautiful in her home back in Winterfell because her brother's or little sister would have broken it in no time at all.

She balled the duvet in her fist and thought about her sister. Where she was right now, if she was safe, she hadn't been caught by the Lannisters but that didn't mean she wasn't in danger, or even dead. _No she can't be dead, Arya wouldn't let herself die, she would fight with death himself before she went into the darkness. _Sansa hoped that she was already going home, back to their mother and brothers. Whipping her eyes she prayed for her sister's safety.

Another knock sounded on the door, this one had a lot more force behind it. "I said go away Jonelle" she called wrapping her duvet around her shoulders. The door flung open and bang against the wall. Sandor stood towering above her, his un-burned side scowling at her. She looked anywhere but directly at him, "It isn't right for a man to barge into a lady's room without her permission" she squeaked trying to find her voice.

"You fiancé would like you to come back down stairs" he rasped brutally, his anger was evident though Sansa didn't understand why he was so angry at her.

Her eyes flicked up to his face for merely a second then back down again, "Tell him I am not dressed to receive anyone" she brushed a straggling auburn lock of hair from in front of her eyes.

The Hound grunted "Do I look like a fucking messenger? You know I just got dragged away from my time off to fetch you from your little cage." Sansa felt bad then, she forced herself to focus on the large man. Only on his eyes though and not the hideous scar, though she didn't know which was worse. He shrugged looking bored "Do what you want, if you enjoy getting beaten bloody then stay up here; I'm not getting a bollocking because you are not up for dinner with the Lions."

"I am sorry" she whispered "I hope I do not get you in trouble. That is selfish of me" She stood up gracefully pulling her hair back from her face. "I hope you don't think ill of me" she brushed the creases from her dress.

He laughed viciously at her "Who taught you to lie like that, you mother or your nanny?" he loomed over her, his eyes gazing her up and down "a proper little lady aren't you, just like Cersei."

Sansa felt herself cringe which sent the Hound laughing even more, he stepped closer and Sansa could smell the alcohol on his heavy breath. "No, nothing like her, too innocent to be like her, too much of a child"

"I am a lady" she said weakly. "A lady is respectful and courteous and she doesn't need to defend her actions to gentlemen."

"Who are you calling a gentleman?" He asked coldly "Me? I am not a gentlemen, you won't catch me in a top hat or tail coat like one of these toffs, or are you talking about Joffery? If that why you never fight back because a lady doesn't have to defend herself?" He leaned in close grabbing her forearm in a place that hadn't yet been bruised "Don't expect others to defend you, especially not from the likes of Joffery."

_You defended me earlier, in the carriage _she almost said. _No, of course not, you don't care about me, if he did he would have protected me when I was getting beaten, he's just like the rest _she straightened her back and faced the Hound "I don't need protecting from my husband-to-be, I love Joffery, everything he does to me is my fault."

His gaze switched to something that looked almost sad, he straightened up as well, "Not even you could believe that lie" he sighed letting go of her. "You need to get better at lying to compete with this lot."

He turned his back to her and made his way to the door, "and what if I leave before I learn how to?" she asked outlandishly regretting it _he'll tell Joffery I said that, _but part of her didn't believe he would.

He looked back at her, she could only see his burned side "If you hold on to dreams like that, then they'll destroy you before you leave." Turning away, he left her in her empty cage.

* * *

**Personal notes:- I am trying to make the characters more realistic to the book before I start pushing the actually AU part of the story... But now that is over, lets start having fun. Next chapter will go back to Arya and we will switch between the two, with the occasional other character popping in to say hi... Next chapter we meet more of Yoren as well as Lommy, Hot Pie and Gendry... More about this chapter here, it was a difficult write, that's why it took long than the other two, and I know it isn't a fun uplifting chapter, but the girls dad just died, give me a break. **

**I own nothing, I would love reviews and follows and all sorts but that is up to you. **


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